Chapter One - Registration

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Student ID Code: 001-783-114
Name: Zachary Eranis
Class: Templar
Date: August 28, 100 AR
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"Oof!" I grunt as I slide my last bag into a closet. I dust my hands off and stretch out. "That's all my stuff, so where to next?"

"You'll need to get registered for your courses. Just follow me and I'll show you where to go!" A silhouette of a girl motions me toward her, and I follow.

Of course, the silhouette isn't a person the details of whom I can't discern. It's just a projected illusion of one. That girl doesn't even exist.

Let me explain. No, that would take far too long. I'll abridge as much as I can now and what I don't cover now I'll revisit.

I am preparing to attend the prestigious Dungeon Crawl Academy, where legends are made, not born. In a universe filled with magic, technology, and more, there was a need to train heroes to conquer the many dungeons that popped up throughout the many realms. And so a school was made to train heroes in all types of expertise.

The school has to accept all races of students, from Humans (ugh) to Dwarves to Minotaurs (wut), and so it becomes very diverse.

This resolution of the school's creation passed one century ago. Since then, the growth and creation of dungeons has slowed to a crawl (see what I did there?), and my goal is to become one of those who fight against those who would see the dungeons grow.

I guess that's a good summary of the school. They don't self promote since there is no need to, but they still get thousands of applications yearly, so I'm really lucky to have gotten in.

Arriving at the registration desk, I find a Dusk Elf speaking with the registrar. "Yes, that's me. I've selected the Warlock class, please, and here are my chosen courses," he slips the registrar the piece of paper.

I'm ashamed to admit that we still have beaurocracy, despite our superior society.

"Wait, I didn't know they let Omegas in here," I whisper to my invisible guide, curious about this fact.

You would think that in our society, all races would be recognized as equal, and treated as such. Of course, that isn't the case. Races are divided into three groups, known as the three Tiers. Each Tier originates mostly from a particular set of realms, or Planes. The highest Tier, which I am blessed to be in, is known as the Alpha Tier. High Elves, Humans, Cait Sith, Dwarves, Angels, Demigods, and other member species of the Divine Plane, Holy Plane and Midgard. The middle tear is the Phi Tier, and plays host to member species of the Fey Plane, Spirit Plane, and a few members of the Bestial Plane. The final Tier, the Omega Tier, consists of most members of the Bestial Plane, the Dusk Plane, and the Ragnarok Plane. I will be making a full list of the humongous amount of species later for reference.

In addition to the Tier system, races are ranked individually based upon mostly the portion of their divinity. The higher or more divine a plane is, the higher its species are ranked (see back).

"All races are accepted, regardless of ranking," the silhouette responds in a monotone. Stupid projection magic. Can't tell what they mean or feel about anything.

I shrug. I never really picked up on the racial bias from my father. He was a noble, and REALLY looked down upon the many lower ranked species. However, I took after my mother is that she agreed with the philosophy that all races had their benefits.

I walk over to the Dusk Elf, who has just received his ID number and dorm assignment. "Hi there, I'm Zachary. You are?" I ask. I hold out my hand to him. He turns toward me and stares blankly at me, his glassy grey eyes piercing through my hand before returning to match my gaze.

"...A...ran," the Dusk Elf responds, taking my hand lightly and shaking. His grasp is quite loose, as if he is afraid to shake it. I then notice the blood red scrape on his forehead and grime covering his face.

"What happened?" I ask, pointing. "Sorry, but I'm not sure that's normal."

"A couple of students got mad at me earlier when I tripped over one of their shoes by accident, so they shoved me into a pile of mud. It's fine, they were Alphas," he explains, shying away gradually.

"That's -blam!-ing ridiculous!" His eyes widen, looking less tired. A speck of dirt falls to the ground. "-blam!-holes..."

"Um, may I ask..." Aran asks me timidly.

"Go ahead," I nod. "You don't have to act so inferior."

"Sorry, s- I mean, okay. What dorm are you in, and what class are you?" He asks.

"Let's see... I'm in dorm section 8, room 3, and I'm a Templar," I respond.

"No, that's my dorm," Aran replies. He hesitates, then, "What a coincidence. We must be roommates."

His lack of emotion worries me. Did I get a sociopath roommate? That would be just my luck. Which, of course, is currently slim to none.

"Neat! I'll show you where it is. You don't need any holographic guide to help you," I motion him in the direction of our dorm block, start walking in that direction, and he follows me, head facing his feet. I don't know what his past is like, but frankly, it can't be filled with happiness. All I know is that my roommates won't be trying to kill me... For the time being.

[Entry Complete]

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Boom! GamerXL5 is back and better than ever before! I hope. Sorry I haven't written in forever, I've had a lot of work to do, and frankly, a lot of time to deliberate on what I should write next. So I'm glad that DCA is opening up its doors and I'll be showing you all around!

The story will be told through a combination of third person action and first person journal entries told through perspectives of five main characters (see description). This style is one I haven't tried to use before, so I'm just crossing my fingers that it will go well!

If you have any questions about the content of the story, please check the Ars Arcanum, which will be located in the back of the story. If you have any comments about the story, go ahead and comment. I'll screw up a lot, so don't be afraid to share your thoughts!

Sincerely,
GamerXL5

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